


May

by pieandsouffle



Category: The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Other, also AU, angst angst, annnnggsstt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-01 23:22:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4038505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pieandsouffle/pseuds/pieandsouffle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>May Parker's life does not go as she planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	May

**Author's Note:**

> Hahaha I'm going through literally every folder of fic on my computer and guess what I found? Spider-Man angst. I have no idea when I wrote this.

There are some things that May can hardly bear to contemplate.

 

 

The first was no children.

 

 

She had decided from a young age she wanted three. One boy, one girl and a surprise. Three little children who would grow up and fall in love with whomever they wanted (she didn’t care who, as long as they were happy), and she’d watch them be happy for the rest of her life, because she couldn’t be happy, not completely, unless they were.

 

She wasn’t ready when the doctor told her that she couldn’t. It was like cutting out a part of her soul. The dream was gone, like a photo left in the rain, streaking and fading, smiling faces melting into haunting grins that made even thinking about it feel like she was being stabbed.

 

She did get a son though, eventually. Peter wasn’t hers, but at the same time, he _was_. It cost the lives of his parents, and she shed thousands of tears over that, but from then on when he lived in her house, kissed her cheek before he went to bed, came to her when he cut his knee, that wet photograph didn’t look as bad as she remembered.

 

And maybe when Peter became happy, she was too. She'd never get that little girl and the surprise, but did it really matter right now? She had one child, at least. He was as good as hers,  _she_ was the one who wiped his nose when he cried, and cooked his dinner, and helped him with his homework until he was too clever to need help.

 

He was  _hers,_ hers and Ben's.

 

The second thing she could never contemplate was losing Ben.

 

When she married him, when she was young, and stupid, and they did things that only young and stupid people would do, sitting on the roofs of their parents’ houses, staring at the stars, talking about their futures, underage drinking which resulted in falling _off_ that roof, and being taken to the ER because of a sprained wrist and mild concussion... she couldn’t have imagined anything happening. Ben was hers, and it was ridiculous to think that anything could ever happen to him. They _belonged_ together. They were going to grow old together and love each other until the earth burned in the wake of the sun, and nothing, even then, would have changed.

 

She would love him, certainly, but he wouldn’t be there. If she had to lose him, it would be peacefully, not with police officers knocking at the door with her nephew pale and trembling, arms held away from him with his hands covered in blood. May didn’t imagine that her nephew would keep shaking, with tears streaking under his eyes, a cop gently pushing him into a seat.

 

She didn’t think that they would say her husband had been murdered. That they would try to catch the killer.

 

(They didn’t.)

 

He was caught, eventually. A masked vigilante got him arrested. And though May was grateful, she was angry with the masked man too, a boy playing hero (oh, he was a boy, all right, as skinny as her Peter), a child who would one day inevitably meet his fate at too young an age, his parents waiting for him to come home. Then the police would arrive, and another family would be broken apart, waiting.

 

Like how she waited for Ben.

 

And Peter was unhappy, and cried, and she found that she wasn't either.

 

And then one day Peter got over it and found a girl who loved him back as much as he did her, and May, once again, was happy.

 

But May's life was  _never_ to be a cheerful existence, because Gwen Stacy was taken away too.

 

The third thing a repetition of her and Ben, but with her dearest loved one.

 

When Peter came home in hysterics, beaten and bruised, she had hardly believed what he was saying. But he cried and cried and cried and she held him until he fell into tearful sleep in her lap. He continued to weep in the days to come, but not at the funeral. He attended with bags under his eyes and was silent, and stayed behind for an hour afterwards and just stood at Gwen Stacy’s gravestone.

 

For five months he was empty.

 

For five months, the man who had brought Ben’s killer to justice. Was it a coincidence? Maybe. May could never be sure.

 

But around the time Spider-Man returned, Peter slowly came back. He started to laugh again, and maybe when he completely returned, May was happy. He fell in love with another girl, a Mary-Jane, who laughed and smiled a lot and visited Gwen's grave with him.

 

It had taken her a while to realise that she was only ever happy when Peter was too. She was not joyous when Peter wasn’t. She couldn’t be.

 

And now, standing in front of her child’s own grave, died aged 20, May isn’t happy, she feels cold, and she knows that for the rest of her life, she will never be happy because everyone worth _everything_ is gone.

 

People offer their sympathies, but only because his death brought Spider-Man’s identity to light. She tries to be grateful, but she can’t. They wouldn’t care if they didn’t know. They don’t care that she lost her son, they care only that someone who gave them things died. 

 

She misses Peter more than  _anyone,_ more than her brothers and sisters, her mother and father, Mary and Richard, and even Ben.

 

But at the same time, she  _hates_ him. 

 

Not Peter, there was a never even the slightest chance she could ever hate him. 

 

But S _pider-Man._

 

Oh yes, the masked vigilante may have been her nephew, but how  _dare_ Spider-Man make Peter feel as though he owed the world so much as to lose his life for it. He did not  _deserve it,_ he deserved to graduate college, get a wonderful job, get married, have children, and die an old,  _happy_ man.

 

Like how May, when she was a young woman, had hoped her life would be.

 

Instead she lost her child, her nephew, her husband, her future daughter-in-law, all in three years.


End file.
